I Want to Hold You're Hand
by legaldruglover
Summary: Love isn't simple, nor is it ever happy. Leon descovers this right before graduation, can he take the blow? I might write more to this if people like the idea.


**I want to hold your hand**

I gaze at him from afar, eyes never leaving his large, muscular frame. The weather is to my mood, bitter, blustery, with rolling dark clouds, ever so slowly releasing themselves of their heavy tears. Everyone around is moving, picking up things, talking, laughing, I feel so disconnected. I stay under my tree, the place I watch him, eyes unmoving, ignoring the bark digging into my bare back. My fingers twitch when he flexes and my chest tightens. He smiles at her, eyes never leaving her face, never straying. I wish for him to look at me that way, but he is so chivalrous he never would drift from her.

I sigh as if hoping that would make my pain any lighter. The rain is beginning to come down harder, but the two lovers do not leave with the rest of the group. They simply stand there, staring into each other's eyes with the same affectionate look. I stay too, in the distance, watching as they gently sway to an unheard song. It hurts, to see them so close, in a way I never could be with him.

The evening's events play through my head, across my eyes. I feel a prickle of hot tears, but take no notice as stray rolls down my cleanly shaven cheek. I don't bother to push the annoying locks of hair out of my eyes. My chest tightens, I watch as they part, laughing, and run to the building where I hadn't notice Luis calling them over.

He follows behind her so honorably, and when they enter the light that spills from the house's open front door my breath hitches. He looks beautiful, and it hurts to know that he would never look at me the same way I do him. She goes in, and he follows, only pausing for a second at the door. My heart flutters when he turns and looks to me, our eyes meet. He looks away, ashamed? Disgusted? I do not know. He seems to be thinking hard raking a hand through his short cropped black hair, then going inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Chris," my chapped lips croak out his name before I even realized it, and I slide down the tree, ignoring the sting of the new scratches it caused," no please just. . .no."

I lay there, sobbing like I never had before. I had been in love before, but never so deeply, never so purely. I just wanted it to be like before. I sit up after I calm slightly and begin rocking back and forth. I surprisingly didn't feel cold, nor did I jump at the clap of thunder in the distance.

Slowly I stand and begin walking. I know well where I'm going. I pass by the house, hearing laughing from inside. The graduation party was going on, and, just like I thought, no one noticed I was gone. And he didn't care. Knowing this gives me power to keep moving forward, and I begin to push forward. I do not run, but simply walk down the streets think about his voice, his smile, words, the way his hands felt. I do not fear reasoning, because I have reasoned enough. I already know I'm not going to graduation tomorrow; I'm not going to follow in my father's footsteps and go to college to become someone great. I will not exist any longer.

I stop when arriving at my destination, and look over the bridge to the raging water. They wouldn't look for me. My mother probably would be the first to notice my disappearance. I no longer am crying. No. She wouldn't care. She never truly cared. No one did, fake smiles, fake hugs, fake I love you's, everything wasn't real. Why did I crawl out of my shell? It would have been better to move forward without experiencing this pain, this wretched un-returned love.

I stepped over the railing and hold myself there, closing my eyes and turning my face to the sky while breathing deeply, allowing the rain to poor down my face.

"only love, can bring the rain," I murmured some song lyrics . Honestly I had never thought about death. But I guess leaving knowing that at least I had loved some body, trusted somebody, experienced such a true pure feeling was better than going without knowing what love was.

My name is Leon Kennedy and I am the boy of 18 that loved Chris Redfield.

Hitomi:Well this is the first sad thing I have ever written but I'm thinking of writing more to this little story. Please r+r because I would like to know how to make things like this better. Thank you.


End file.
